A Simple Guide on How to Die
by Strangling
Summary: I mean, nobody wants to be a demigod. But you can't stop a demigod from being a demigod unless you wanna kill 'em. Oh, great! That reminds me, demigods are hunted by mythological creatures from thousands of years ago. Great, just great.


Screaming and running for your life is an awful idea when you're a demigod. I'd suggest running directly at the opponent, stopping right in front of them, and hope some magic happens. I mean, if it doesn't, you're probably not reading this anymore. But I'm going to hope that you still _are_ reading this. Hades is grumpy enough with Republicans filling up his realm.

Being a demigod is sort of like being that one kid who likes expressing their interests with hair dye and "different" makeup, but they're not looking for attention. Because, well, monsters are always looking at you, with an evil intent. Kind of like homicidal bullies. What fun, am I right?

It just so happens that I _am_ that kid. The demigod and the I-don't-want-attention-but-I-look-awesome-with-bright-pink-hair kid. Yeah, both of them. Well, not _bright_ pink. Try pastel. Pastel pink is my hair color. Draw me like one of your French girls now. _Do it,_ I dare you.

Just kidding. If I wanted to dare you, I'd probably threaten to bind your soul to the River Styx for eternity. Even though I can't do that.

You're probably really bored of my prologue now. Or, first few paragraphs. The first line actually did have a purpose, though, I just got kind of...sidetracked. With my thoughts. Onward.

Screaming and running for your life is an awful idea when you're a demigod. Particularly when you're in the middle of high school marching band rehearsal at 8:30 PM with none of your homework complete, another hour of rehearsal left and it's almost 20 degrees Fahrenheit outside. Which, surprisingly (or not), I just happened to be in that very position.

I never really _liked_ my marching instructor. She was really whiny. Not like a marching director who's ticked that nobody can get anything right kind of whiny. Whiny as in complaining about how bad her life sucks.

It's kind of shocking when she comes up to you and complains how much she hates having to kill innocent demigods for his boss.

Alright, so, I've known I've been a demigod for a little over six years now. When I sense something wrong, my instinct is usually to scream and run. But something different occurred when this death threat so happened to come upon me.

"You know, trombone six, Jay? James? Whatever your name is…" Lanie, the ever-so-whiny marching director approached me. It was probably about me under preparing again, for freezing temperatures and having an iron deficiency a hoodie and ripped up skinny jeans didn't really cut it.

"It's Jamie. And, uh, what?" I made eye contact with her, but it was hard to maintain: her outfit was the most gods-awful thing I had ever laid eyes on. She had this ugly, scratchy-looking body-length pink parka on, and in the middle she had this ugly snakeskin belt that looked like it was ready to fall apart from wear. Oh, and did I fail to mention she never blinked? Never. _Ever._ It was creepy as...you get it. She was _always_ staring me down. At least it felt like she was.

"I absolutely hate having to constant look at you buggers without wanting to kill myself," she grumbled.

"Did you just call us bu-"

" _AND_ you know what? I think I'm tired of it. I mean, boss did tell me to hold off until I got you alone...but eh, who cares? He's trying to get with _Hera,_ now, off all people! Like, ugh! Who in the right mind does that?"

She said Hera, and at that point, I was just like, _Oh, she wants to kill me. Cool. I wonder what she'll do? Maul me? Maybe her eyes are laser beams. That would be sick._

Lanie, or whatever her actual name was, was still droning on about Hera and her boss and whatever. So, I picked up my trombone (which I had cleverly had the Hephaestus kids develop out of Celestial bronze), kept looking at her, casually adjusted my glasses, and then whacked her with it.

Normally that was the signal to pull out my real weapon. But when I hit her, an eyeball fell out. _Her entire left eyeball._ I just watched it hit the ground.

"Ew, gross," I commented, kicking it away. Some kid beside me had just puked, and some others were running away. The band director had tried to approach, but he was power walking away, talking into his phone and turning green.

Great, the cops were probably coming.

I cleared my throat, looking at Lanie and stepping back. "Yo, Lanie, I'm really sorry about...That." I gestured towards the eyeball. "But like...I think you need therapy."

Lanie bent down, picking up her eyeball and putting it _back in._ At this rate I just wanted to leave, but us demigods always have to stay around, to protect the public! (Insert sarcastic smiley faces here.) Lanie looked at me, looking like she was ready to spit poison.

" _Lanie?!_ Do they teach you demigods nothing these days? I am Lamia, the... _I'm Lamia!"_ Her voice boomed as she bared her teeth, and only now did I notice she had fangs. Lamia...Lamia. The one who ate children because Hera killed her kids, and then she went crazy. I was dealing with a psychopath? Great. Just great.

"Look, Lan- Lamia, I'm honestly not into this whole _Twilight_ franchise thing, but if you'll go away, I'll buy a Team Lamia shirt, deal?"

Do not recommend that to a vampiric child eater. I repeat, _Do not recommend buying a Team Lamia shirt to a vampiric child eater._

I don't know what happened first, her grabbing the puking kid, who I now recognized as that one crappy saxophone player who was never tuned, Thomas Jester, or me being thrown down against the ground. Either my five hour energy had worn off or she was really fast.

Anyway, Thomas was puking on her now. And she looked mortified. This gave me a pretty good opening.

I pulled off my white wristband, which quickly expanded into an opal-colored longbow. The smooth material was cool against my hands, the engravings of roses fun little curves to follow along the limb. I pulled back the string, which looked a lot like dental floss, except a lot more durable. As I pulled it back a Celestial bronze arrow appeared on the string, automatically nocking itself.

I looked at Lamia, pulling the bowstring back up against my cheek. She was trying to multitask by running to her car while simultaneously dragging Thomas along, who was wailing and kicking his feet, as well as dodge my aim. Honestly, the sad attempt was kind of funny. I almost felt bad as I let go, allowing the arrow to fly and pierce the back of her head. _Poof._ She blew up in an explosion of golden dust, sprinkling down on the grass. The only people around were a few people hiding in cars, Thomas, who was curled into a ball, and me. Oh, and if you count flashing police lights in the distance, those, too.

I got up, dusting myself off and pressing my bow against my wrist, allowing it to turn back into a bracelet. I glanced around at anyone looking, pushed my hair out of my eyes, then began walking in the direction of my house, off of the football field.

I slipped my hand into my pocket, feeling the golden drachma there. I began tossing it in my hand, and as soon as I was far enough away from the football field, I broke into somebody's backyard, hoping their hose was still on. Luckily it was, and I sprayed it up into the air, tossing the drachma in the spray.

"Oh Iris, goddess of the Rainbow, please accept my offering," I said casually, examining my fingernails. There was a little dirt beneath my fingernails. I remembered to clean them later.

"Show me Butch." The mist quickly revealed the sleeping face of my boyfriend, none other than Butch himself, counselor of the Iris cabin. I could tell he was in the cabin, actually, mostly because I had slept in his bed before (oops.) C'mon, the Roman kids were infiltrating and they didn't want to go into the Iris cabin, so what can I say? Nobody was monitoring.

I cleared my throat, watching Butch for a second before saying, "You sleepin' on the job again?"

Butch jumped up, looking around with surprise, then seeing me.

"Hey! Don't imitate my old boss, he was scary, man." I laughed a bit, loving how easy it was to scare him.

"Yeah, whatever. Can you come pick me up? I'm a few blocks from the West Roxbury football field. Same place as last time?" I gave him puppy eyes, letting my glasses slide down my nose so he couldn't say no.

"Aw, c'mon, man. This late?"

"But I just fought a cannibal..!" Butch gave me a more sympathetic look,

"Alright, fine. But last time, man. I'm tired."

"I'll do one of your chores next week." Butch looked a little more happy about this, and suddenly the Iris message was messed up as he walked out.

I sat down on the front steps of the building. I had come here 'last time' due to weather. I didn't want to walk home and it was really hot, so Butch had picked me up with his pegasi and brought me to camp. My dad was a cop in Hyde Park and he worked most of the time for my not-demigod twin siblings, which were from my stepmother, Eileen. My dad sure got over _my_ mom real quick. I didn't like Eileen, she was super Christian and conservative and stuff, which kind of broke all of my beliefs. Most nights I just didn't go home, so my parents never really expected me. If the Mist didn't cover up my recent scandal, which it looked like it didn't, I was getting expelled anyway - so I could stay at camp for a little while. Luckily, I already had my packed Vans kitty bag, with my favorite jeans and shirts and stuff.

I saw the rainbow chariot skid along the street and stop right in front of me. I slid between a Ford and a Kia (ew, Kia) and kissed Butch on the cheek.

"Hey, thanks. Please don't tell me you have dishwashing or something next week," I whined, laughing a bit as he took off into the sky.


End file.
